This Time Tomorrow
by luvin-benadam
Summary: When a case brings Woody and Jordan together and a messed up teenage girl who they both relate to is thrown into their lives, what happens with broken relationships? need to kow if it's good!
1. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Goodnight

**Ok I don't know if I'm going to continue with this or not. It's just a dream that I had and it's been taunting me to write about it. If I get a fair few reviews than I'll keep going or if I feel like there's something missing I'll continue. I just really need to get this off my chest. Oh, and just so you know, it's going to start off with the ending, sort of. Just read and you'll understand what I mean. Furthers chapters are going to be sort of like flashbacks. It's hard to explain but trust me, when you read this it'll make sense. **

**IMPORTANT BEFORE READING: this is going to be a sad chapter and to heighten the mood I HIGHLY recommend listening to Hymn To The Sea...it's from the Titanic soundtrack, one of my favourite movies. It always makes me cry and maybe it'll do the same for you! On with the story:**

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The cemetery was quiet, only the wind rustling the branches of the oak trees to fill the emptiness. Fold out black chairs were seated in rows before a hole in the ground and the casket hovering slightly above it, a reminder to the guests of why they were there. People were milling around, all dressed solemnly in black, not one with a smile on their face. A priest stood at the alter at the front, calling to the guests of the funeral to take their seats. Slowly, the plastic chairs filled as the guests sat down, some with their heads hung, others with tissues in their hands.

A pretty girl with long blonde hair sat down in the back, a yellow rose clutched tightly in her grasp. Her sunshine curls bounced around her face, thick black headband pulling her bangs out of her eyes. Even from a distance, you could tell they were blue. She removed her long, white wool coat despite the winter weather, revealing a black, strapless dress. Around her neck hung a silver heart locket that drew attention to her delicate shoulders and porcelain skin. She couldn't have been more than sixteen. Every once and awhile a guest would turn their head to look at her but she never seemed to notice. Or at least did an immaculate job of hiding it. She looked down to her hands which were resting gently in her lap, her crimson nails accented profusely against the yellow of the rose. Her eyes, the woman next to her noticed, were clouded over with grief.

The priest stood and the already silent crowd fell into an even more deafening silence. As he began the eulogy, the young girl noticed that his voice held no remorse, no matter how hard he tried to fake it. It was hard to feel depressed about the death of someone you never knew. His crisp voice was carried through the wind and down the slops of the empty graveyard, efforts of a consolation that no one would feel. When the mention finally came to his greatest achievement, his daughter, all eyes flicked to the girl sitting at the back. Again, she pretended not to notice and sat staring blankly ahead of her. She refused to show emotion.

When at last the priest had finished speaking and a couple close friends and family had spoken on his behalf, the procession of the roses began. It started at the front, the first guests walking slowly down the black carpet to the casket at the end, placed a red rose on the dark cherry wood, and walked back to their seat, each guest after him doing the same. When a least two-dozen roses had been placed upon it, only one guest remained. She got up from her seat at the back, placing her little weight onto her black Stiletto heels. Her curls bounced around her face and she walked the long walk down the black carpet to her father's casket at the end.

She reached the top and walked around the alter to the wooden box that held her only remaining parents body, placing the yellow rose upon the others. It stood out against the blood red of the other roses. But unlike those before her, she did not immediately walk back to her seat. Instead she stood there, her large blue eyes fixed on the coffin. She placed her pale hand upon it, fingers trembling slightly after trying so hard to control the shaking. She bent down lower so her face was only a couple inches from the wood.

"Do not go gentle into that goodnight," she said quietly. After waiting a moment before turning on her heel, she walked back down the black carpet, not stopping at her chair but continuing to walk towards that cliff that looked over the ocean. The woman that had been sitting beside her got up and followed, her black dress that matched her hair flying behind her in the cool wind.

She gave her some distance but always kept her in sight, following the streak of blonde and black lights as she ran down towards the cliff. The woman wondered if she was going to jump. Running now to keep up with her, she let out a breath of relief as she saw her sitting on the grass, her long legs crumpled beneath her tired body. She approached cautiously.

"Emma?" she asked, her voice laced with concern and worry. But the young girl didn't turn around. She continued to stare out at the ocean and sob. The woman closed the remaining steps separating them and tucked her dress under her as she sat down. Taking a second to glance behind her, she noticed a man in a suit walking slowly towards them.

"I'm sorry," she said, turning her attention back to the grieving fifteen year old beside her.

"It doesn't matter Jordan," she said quietly, her voice carried down the cliff by the wind. "Sorry won't bring him back."

Jordan knew she was right. Being herself a child of the devastation of loosing a parent, she knew all too well what this girl was going threw. And she couldn't stand it more when people said that they understood what she was going threw.

"You know I lost a parent at a young age too," Jordan said, her eyes scanning the horizon as the sun began to set in front of them. In nothing but silence, the man walked up to them and sat down beside Jordan, not saying a word. His presence alone seemed to make the situation less of what it was.

"You did?" Emma asked, her voice slightly curious.

"Ya. My mother was murdered when I was ten," she said, still not taking her eyes off the streaks of gold that were making their way across the slightly star strewn sky.

Beside her, Woody knew where this conversation was going.

"I walked into the house and found her dead on the living room floor."

"But you didn't watch her die did you? You didn't hold her head in your lap and watch the light go out of her eyes. You didn't see that final breath between life and death," Emma replied, looking down to her lap and staring at her red painted nails.

Jordan fell into a silence that matched Woody's. Both had lost parents, yes, but neither had seen that defining moment between life and death, had had their parents die in their arms. Jordan didn't know what to say.

"I lost both my parents. Same as you Emma," Woody said, turning his head to look into the eyes that mirrored his own.

"Maybe we should start a club," Emma joked. Woody and Jordan forced a laugh for her sake. But both were glad that she was seeing this as slightly humorous. It meant that she was out of the denial stage. "What do ya say? The Dead Parents Club?" she joked. But Woody and Jordan could hear the serious undertone that her statement held.

"Sure," Jordan managed to get out. There was something about this girl that reminded her of herself. She felt close to her and wanted more than anything to take away her pain. Emma extended her hand and Jordan shook it, then watched as she did the same for Woody.

"Thanks you guys," she said, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Jordan noticed that her curls were slightly starting to come undone. "I think I'm gonna go back, say goodbye one last time," she said, tucking her knee-length dress under herself as she got to her feet. "Come find me after?" she questioned.

Woody and Jordan both nodded. They had both bonded with her on a level most people could not reach her on and didn't want to let go too soon. She was more a part of their lives than either was willing to admit. Once Emma had walked away, Woody and Jordan continued to stare out onto the horizon. The sky had now become dark, the light of the moon their only source of light.

"Jordan?" Woody asked timidly. Jordan noted the hesitation in his voice.

"Ya?" she asked back.

"Can you promise me something?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sure," she replied.

"Don't go gentle into that goodnight," he said as he turned to look into her chocolate eyes.

She simply smiled and laid her head on his shoulder and he kissed the crown of her dark head.

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT 

Do not go gentle into that good night,  
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,  
Because their words had forked no lightning they  
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright  
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,  
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,  
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight  
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,  
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.  
Do not go gentle into that good night.  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

XXXXXXXXXX

**NEXT TIME: you'll find out all about Emma and how she came into their lives and exactly what the deal with Woody and Jordan is!**


	2. Someone Must Be Missing You Terribly

**Might start off a little confusing but stick with me...it'll make more sense soon. **

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It is commonly known by most, especially residences of the city itself, that Boston winters are cold. The bitter wind whips at any part of uncovered skin, biting with its teeth of ice, making it raw and numb with cold. It sucks your skin of moisture and cracks your lips, a constant annoyance when you find yourself with your tongue upon them, wetting them in a subconscious way of making them less sore; only to do the opposite and finding them even more chapped than they were before. Those who have lived there for some time or vacationers who have done their research know to wear warm clothes, scarves and mittens. But there will always be those select few who either are too dumb, even after living in a certain city for their whole lives, to pay attention to the weather, or simply don't care.

Jordan Cavanaugh preferred to think that she fit into the second category. She was fully aware of the blue tinge that had been slowly creeping its way up her bare skin for the past hour but really didn't seem to mind. There was something comforting about the way it numbed you, rather in the same way alcohol did, of all your pain; except without the hangover the next morning.

She could feel the cold wood bench under her, the iciness seeping through her jeans. Her chest where her red v-neck sweater wasn't covering was like frozen silk, smooth but numb to the touch. Her curly hair blew gently around her face, stray pieces flying occasionally into her hazel eyes; she brushed them away stubbornly. The park she was sitting in was practically empty, only one or two people lingered on the wooded paths, and even they were bundled up in winter gear. They glanced at her curiously as they passed, some smiling, others just looking at her like she was crazy. One even stopped to ask if she was ok. But she had insisted that she was, she had just stopped for the scenery. And with a last, unconvinced smile, she left her alone.

Jordan's cell phone rang from inside her jeans pocket, the vibrations sending shivers up her already numb spine. She snapped out of her reverie and pulled it out, inwardly cursing the small black electronic that prevented her from her thinking.

"Cavanaugh," she asked, her voice brisk with cold. Garret's voice returned.

"Jordan where the hell are you? You told me you were going to your office to do paperwork, a call comes in and I come to find you and your not there!" he said, his voice agitated with her absence.

"Sorry Garret. I took a walk," she said quietly. Garret hesitated. He could hear the meekness of her voice and knew something was wrong.

"Are you ok?" he asked fatherly.

"Ya I'm fine. I just needed some time to think. I'll be right there." She hung up the phone and got up from her bench, walking the block back to the morgue. When she arrived, she called the elevator and waited. Behind her, she could hear the heavy echo of what she assumed to be men's shoes as it reverberated off the concrete walls. She didn't turn around.

"Jordan," a voice said curtly from behind her. She wheeled around, startled by the sound. Woody was walking swiftly towards her, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his dress jacket that was covering his simple long sleeve black shirt, his light wash jeans tight in all the right places.

"Woody, hey," she hesitated, "How's it going?"

"It's going. Where's your jacket? It's minus two degrees out. Aren't you cold?" he asked, his voice full to the brim with concern.

"No I'm fine," she lied. But her arms deceived her. She folded them across her chest but Woody could still see the goose bumps that littered them. He raised an eyebrow at her in one of his signature looks. "I'm fine. Really," she continued to insist.

The elevator dinged in front of them and its doors slid smoothly open. Jordan stepped in, closely followed by a hesitant Woody.

"So how have you been lately?" he asked conversationally as Jordan hit the third floor button and the doors closed automatically.

"Ummm ..." Jordan didn't know whether or not to lie. In truth, she had been a miserable wreck. Plagued by a cold and a seemingly impossible case, strain had come inevitably on her relationship with JD. His constant searching raids on Jordan's past relationship with Woody had gotten tiresome and eventually, things ended. Badly. "I'm good," Jordan said, putting on her facade.

Woody gave her another look that stated all the disbelief he felt. She grinned. "How have you been?" she asked, trying to sound interested. Her heart hammered and her pulse raced. She was terrified that he would say going on a rant about the new woman he was seeing, how great she was, in the bed and out, and how much he liked her, just to piss her off. But he didn't.

"Not so hot actually," he said truthfully, taking Jordan back in surprise.

"Really?" she asked, her voice filled curiosity. "How come?"

Woody hesitated, wondering just how much to tell her. He decided on the details that were less personal. The last thing he needed was for Jordan to have reasons to bug him. "Had a really bad cold. Boss is on my ass. Just a really bad week," he answered honestly, leaving out everything about the nights he spent alone in his dark apartment, reminiscing on old photos and when him and Jordan would tell each other everything, those two people that were so close they were the only two that knew everything about the other.

"Ah I feel for you man," she said with a hearty laugh. Woody let a smile play across his lips. He turned to look at her and watched as she stared straight ahead, hugging herself for warmth. Woody took off his jacket and hung it on his fingers, holding it out to her.

"Here," he said. She turned and looked at him, her eyes falling from his face to the warm jacket in his hands. She was cold and would be stupid to deny warmth. Reaching out, she pulled the coat from him, their fingers meeting momentarily, a shock running through both their bodies. She attempted to drape the jacket over her shoulders but her numb hands seemed to be preventing her from doing so.

"Let me help," Woody said with a slight chuckle as she struggled to put it on. He took his coat from her and placed it gently on her shoulders, his hands coming into brief contact with them.

"Thanks," she said quietly. The elevator lurched to a halt as it landed on the third floor. The doors rolled open and Jordan stepped out, Woody on her heels. "I'm going to Garret's office. Where you headed?" she asked, not bothering to turn around and look at him.

"Same. New case. He's supposed to be sending an ME with me," he said as he followed Jordan around a corner and into Garrets office.

"Jordan. Woody. Together," he said, looking back and both between the two of them. "Huh," he said with a sigh. Deciding not to ask, he turned professional. "Woody you obviously know about the case already. Jordan, thirty five year old female found dead under a tree in a park, gunshot wound to the head. I need you there right away with Woody," he said, his eyes darting between the two of them. Jordan nodded.

"Just gimme a sec to grab my kit Woods," she said with a smile as she rendezvoused out of the office, handing Woody his jacket before she walked out. Grabbing her jacket and kit from her office and heading back down, Jordan found Woody waiting for her by the elevator.

"Ready to go?" he asked with a smile.

"Of course," she said in return.

They took the elevator to the parking garage down in silence, neither making eye contact. When they hit the floor they were looking for, they walked out and found the cars they were looking for.

"Follow me there?" Woody asked, not voicing his concern about Jordan and her reckless driving on the icy roads.

"Right behind you all the way," she said before walking off to her car a couple spaces down and climbing in.

XXXXXXXXXX

Woody and Jordan got out of their cars at the same time and walked through the darkening park. The arrived at the body where a woman lay crumpled in a heap at the roots of the tree, her blood spattered all over the bark.

"This is our crime scene," she said, walking over to the tree and examining it. "Arterial spatter. She was probably around 5'7, close range shot." She bent down and lent over the body, Woody observing over her shoulder just like old times. "Libitity is set. Rigor too." She removed a thermometer from her kit and inserted it into the woman's abdomen. "93.6. She was killed about three hours ago," Jordan said, standing back up and facing Woody, pulling her gloves off with a snap. "I'm gonna do a walk around. I'll be right back," she said, throwing her gloves in the nearest trash.

She walked around the tree first, sifting through the leaves with her feet. She continued walking around the trees stopping a couple feet away where she could see what looked like a heap of rags or a blanket. She knelt beside it, pulling on a pair of gloves and fingering back a piece of the dirty pink blanket. She looked inside and fell backwards in shock. Getting over her stupor and getting back onto her knees so she could look into it again, she pulled back a bit more of the blanket, revealing exactly what it was she had initially thought it was.

A tiny baby was looking back into her face; it's eyes blinking up at her in curiosity. She gasped and lifted the baby up from the ground so she was cradling it in her arms.

"Woody!" she yelled. They baby started to fuss at the loud noise. "Shh shh. It's gonna be ok. It's alright," she cooed, running her mittened finger over the baby's face. Woody came running to where Jordan was standing, worried about her.

"Jordan what's wrong?" he asked, huffing from his run in the cold.

"Look," she said quietly, looking down into her arms. Woody stepped close to Jordan and stared into the bundle in her arms.

"Ohmigod," Woody said in sudden realization. "That ... that ..." he stuttered. "That's a baby," Woody said, shocked.

Jordan gave him a 'you think' look.

"Where did you find it?" he asked.

"Right there," Jordan said, pointing down to the ground where the baby had been laying. "We need to get her over to the ambulance. She looks pretty beat up," she said. She looked as though she was about to cry.

"How do you know it's a girl?" Woody asked.

"I can just tell," Jordan said.

With Woody at her side running his fingers gently over the top of the baby's head, Jordan walked over to an ambulance and handed the baby reluctantly over to the ME. She had already become attached to her and didn't want to let her go.

"She'll be fine Jordan," Woody said reassuringly as she handed over the baby, placing a hand gingerly on her shoulder. She leaned her weight onto him for support and they waited for the paramedic's word.

"She seems to be ok," the EMT said. "Just a couple scratches on her body. "You have no idea where her parents are?"

"No. I just found her under a tree," Jordan replied.

The ET nodded. "Well here's the baby back," he said, handing over the baby in a new clean blanket. Jordan reached out and took the baby, pulling her into her chest protectively. "She's about six months by the way," he added.

A smile spread across Jordan's face and Woody couldn't help but notice how good she was with her and what a great mother she would make.

"She's gonna end up in child services isn't she?" Jordan asked as her and Woody walked away.

"Ya unfortunately. But they're closed for the night. We'll have to find someone to take her until they open in the morning," he said with a sad smile.

"I'll do it," Jordan said immediately.

"Huh?" Woody asked back.

"I'll take her for the night. You said that we needed someone for her to stay with until Child Services opens in the morning. Who better than me?" she asked with a grin.

"Oh ummm ... I dunno," he began. "Garret, Lily, umm ... Bug or Nigel maybe!" he asked with a sarcastic smile.

"Come on Woody I can do it!" she said.

Woody just smiled. "Alright Jo. I'll let you take her," he said. "I'll come to your apartment tomorrow and pick you guys up. Take care of her," he said. He placed a kiss on the crown on the baby's head and walked away, leaving Jordan to turn her attention the baby.

"Hey sweetie. Where's your mommy? Someone out there must be missing you terribly,"

XXXXXXXXXX

**ok Emma is gonna be introduced next chapter and yes, she fits into all this! sorry if it seems a little rushed ad remember, all suggestions are welcome! and if anything doesnt make sense, just lemme know!**


	3. Emma

Oh and by the way, the second chapter took place around three months before the first. Enjoy!

XXXXXXXXXX 

It's strange how you never really appreciate silence until you've experienced a lot of loud noise, or the company of a fussy six-month-old baby. Jordan had tried everything she could think of, rocking her, singing to her, warming up a glass of milk, but nothing seemed to soothe the distraught child. Finally coming to the realization that she couldn't take care of her alone when the neighbor starting pounding on the wall, she called for backup.

"Woody? It's Jordan," she said into the receiver, the baby cradled in her arms, phone resting between her ear and her shoulder.

"Jordan? It's one o'clock in the morning. Is everything ok?" Woody asked from the other side of the line, sitting up in his bed at the undertone of panic in her voice.

"Ya it's fine. Ok well ... not really. I can't get the baby to stop crying!" Jordan sobbed, the exhaustion and frustration starting to get to her.

"Do you need some help?" Woody asked, a slight chuckle in his voice.

Jordan couldn't help but smile. "Could you?" she laughed.

"Of course," Woody replied, climbing out of his bed and pulling his jeans over his boxers, the phone resting on his shoulder. "I'll be there in ten minutes. Just try putting the TV on and distracting her," Woody offered as he slipped his shirt on over his head, the material getting momentarily caught on the antenna of his phone. He shook it free and listened as Jordan turned on the TV.

"Ok," she said quietly. "Just get here soon."

"I will."

Woody hung up, found his shoes, and left his apartment, finding it difficult not to laugh at the idea of Jordan handling a tiny baby. He wondered to himself why she had called him when someone like Garret, who had a daughter, was far better suited and experienced. Not that he was complaining. After weeks of not seeing her or hearing from her except from the occasional update from the morgue staff when they came to visit him, he had sincerely missed her presence, that spunk she brought into a room.

He pulled his car up outside her building and walked up the stairs, finding her door and knocking.

"It's open!" Woody heard her voice yell from the other side of the heavy red door. He grabbed the handle and turned, pushing open the door and walking into the hall. Jordan was sitting on the couch, her long legs curled under her, the baby cooing from somewhere inside a blanket in her arms.

Woody plastered a huge grin on his face as he walked over to them and knelt down in front of Jordan. "She seems to be ok," he said with a smile as he ran a finger down the baby's smooth cheek.

At the instant of his touch, her wails broke out. Jordan tipped her head back in annoyance and scrunched up her nose as if that would get rid of her headache.

"Want me to take her?" he asked.

She brought her head back up so she could see into his face and nodded. Woody slid his hands gently under the blanket, one hand supporting her head, the other under her tiny body. In a swift movement, he lifted her from Jordan's lap and positioned her in his arms. She continued to cry.

Woody stood up and began to walk around Jordan apartment, lightly singing what Jordan recognized as All The Pretty Little Ponies.

_Hush a bye  
Don't you cry  
Go to sleep my little baby  
When you wake  
You shall have  
All the pretty little ponies_

Jordan smiled from her spot on the couch as the baby settled, her balled up fists coming to a rest at her side, her tiny brown eyes closing ever-so slowly. Woody continued to sing. A couple minutes later, the bundle in his arms stopped moving and rested gently. He smiled to himself, then looked up at Jordan who looked impressed.

"Not to shabby, farm boy," she said with quiet laugh. The last thing they wanted was to wake her up.

Woody smiled smugly. "Jealous?" he laughed.

"Ya actually I am. I spent three hours trying to do that and you come in here and within five minutes she's out. What's your secret?" she asked, her smile hinting.

"Ah Jordan. You just gotta have the touch," he said with a smirk. Honestly, he had no idea how he had gotten her to calm down so quickly. "Where do you want her?"

"Ummm ..." Jordan looked around her apartment hesitantly. "My bed I guess. I can't put her on the couch, she'll roll off," she said with a smile.

Woody grinned and pushed his way into Jordan's bedroom, feeling extremely awkward. He laid the baby down onto of the comforter and could feel Jordan behind him, watching intently the care he took. When he was sure she was settled, he backed out, closing the glass doors, and sat down on the couch beside Jordan. She was taking up two of the three cushions, her head resting against the armrest, her knees bent. Woody sat as close to the armrest on the other side as possible. Jordan just smiled tiredly.

"Why don't you go to bed Jo," he suggested. "You look exhausted."

Jordan laughed. "Thanks," she said sarcastically. "But I just might have to take you up on that offer. I'm on the early shift tomorrow and I really need to get at least some sleep," she said, though not bothering not move.

"Ya I should probably get going now that she's calmed down," Woody said, getting to his feet and standing above Jordan.

"Wait," Jordan said. "Why don't you just spend the night here? I mean, it's already quarter to two in the morning and we could just carpool tomorrow. No sense ruining the o-zone even more huh?" she said with a hesitant smile.

Woody's face remained expressionless. Then he flashed her one of his great Woody Hoyt smiles. "Sure Jordan," he said with a laugh.

Jordan jumped up from the couch in surprise. She had definitely not expected him to say yes. "Alright. I'll grab you a blanket and you can sleep on the couch," she said as she walked into her bedroom and quietly tugged at a fleece blanket from her closet. She threw it to him while standing outside her room.

"Ok well," she stuttered. Woody found it impossible to keep the smile off his face. It was like they were back in the tenth grade. "Goodnight."

"Night, Jordan."

She closed the door to her room and got ready for bed leaving Woody standing in the living room watching her shadow undress. Jordan curled up under her covers, carefully aware of the baby lying next to her. She could see her little chest rising and falling as her miniature lungs were filled to capacity, and then let it all out. That night, Jordan fell asleep to the steady breathing of the child next to her, and the warm comfort that on her couch, lay a man who would do anything to protect her.

XXXXXXXXXX

The smell of coffee wafted through the small apartment, it's strong, familiar scent stirring her from her slumber. Momentarily she was confused; she did not remember waking earlier and putting a pot on. She looked to the pillow beside her where a small indent laid. Placing her hand upon the spot on the bed, she realized it was still warm and that the baby may have only been gone a couple of seconds. In a panic, she lent over the side of the bed, her heart hammering with the possibility that she had rolled off the side. When there was no sign of her on the floor, realization hit her.

She slumped her head back on her pillow, the sound of Woody bustling around her kitchen arousing the thought that he had taken the baby from the bed. She pulled her covers off her and walked out of her bedroom, stopping and leaning against the frame to watch Woody.

Jordan admired his talent to multitask. In one arm the baby lay, looking up into his face from below. A dish towel was slung over the opposite shoulder and Jordan noticed that he was pouring out two cups of coffee, making toast, and feeding the baby mushed up carrots all at the same time. He looked up suddenly, feeling her dark eyes on the back of his head.

"Morning sleepy head," he said with a wink, turning his attention back to the baby.

"Want some help?"

Woody looked up from his arms and into Jordan's face. He hesitant before saying, "Oh ya." Apparently he wasn't that good of a multitasker.

"What do you need me to do?" Jordan asked, walking into the kitchen and over to Woody.

"Take her?" he asked, looking down into his arms.

Jordan didn't bother replying but took the baby and the food Woody had smushed. Taking her over to the couch and sitting down, Jordan rather felt like a family, though she would never admit it out loud. A husband making breakfast and coffee in the morning, taking care of the baby; the mother waking up to breakfast in bed.

_'I could get used to this," _Jordan thought to herself.

XXXXXXXXXX

Child services had come and left, leaving Jordan with a hole in her heart. Woody had been there for her, his hand on her shoulder as the lady lifted the baby from her arms. Now she was burying herself in her work, but what else was new?

"Hey Jo I found something out," Woody said as he pushed his way into her office. She was sitting at her desk, her paperwork piled like a mountain in front of her.

"What's that?" she asked, not bothering to look up.

"The baby was the victim's. Bug just confirmed the DNA."

Jordan's head snapped up.

"Elizabeth Montgomery, twenty five years old, residence is up in Taylor Estates. What'd'ya say we go on a little trip?" he asked, trying his best to sound cheery.

"Ya sure," Jordan said, closing a file and standing up. "Pretty ritzy area for someone like her. Not that I'm passing judgment it's just that she didn't exactly look like she belonged in an area like that. I always see people from around there wearing Stiletto heels, Prada and Gucci. Our vic was wearing a pair of sweats and a Las Vegas t-shirt."

"Well why don't we go get some answers to those questions," Woody said with a grin.

XXXXXXXXXX

They pulled into Taylor Estates and up the gated driveway of 1564 Scarborough Avenue, the giant castle-sized mansion looming grandly overhead. They walked together to the front door, Woody reaching up and grabbing the large brass knocker, bringing it down twice onto the heavy wood door. A young girl answered, her blonde hair hanging loosely around her face. Her beauty took both Woody and Jordan back.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked somewhat politely but with an undertone on annoyance.

"Boston PD," Woody said, pulling aside his jacket to reveal his badge. Her icy blue eyes flicked down to it, then back into Woody's face, her expression not one of impression or curiosity. "I'm Detective Hoyt and this is Jordan Cavanaugh from the Massachusetts Medical Examiners Office. Were looking for anyone with the name Montgomery who lives at this residence."

An emotion finally betrayed her and concern flitted across her delicate features. "Well the only person who lives here with that last name is Elizabeth but she's not here right now."

Woody and Jordan looked at each other and exchanged a look.

"Is everything ok? Is Elizabeth alright?" Woody and Jordan could hear the panic in her voice.

Jordan pulled a file out from her bag, removing a picture of the victim. "Is this Elizabeth Montgomery?" she asked kindly, putting the picture in viewing range of the teenager.

"Ohmigod," the girl said, her eyes filling with tears. "She's dead." It didn't need to be explained to her; the image of the young woman lying on the metal table seemed to have gotten the message across. "Come in," she said, stepping aside and allowing the through the doors and into an extravagant entrance hall.

They followed her through a wide hall to a living room at the end where she motioned for them to sit down.

"What was your relationship with Miss Montgomery?" Woody asked.

The girl sniffed. "Umm ... she was a maid here. But she was always more than that to me. She was a really good friend. Ohmigod! What about Jenna?"

"Jenna?" Jordan asked.

"Her daughter. Little six month old baby, brown hair, brown eyes!" she said, her voice exasperated.

Woody and Jordan looked at each other again, an understanding flowing silently between them.

"She's fine. Child Services has her," Woody said calmly.

The teen let out a sigh of relief.

"Who are you?" Woody asked, trying not to sound offensive.

"Emma Roberts. I live here with my dad. Elizabeth was part of the staff. What happened to her?"

"We're not to sure. But we need you to tell us everything about Elizabeth that you can." Jordan said.

Emma nodded. "My mom died when I was five, my dad never really got over it. He wanted to move to LA and start a new life, but I refused. So he transfered there and hired help for me to live here. Elizabeth has been with us for about four years. When she found out she was pregnant, my dad wanted to fire her. But I insisted that she stay. Since my dad doesn't even live here he didn't really care. Elizabeth and Jenna both have rooms upstairs and Jenna has a nanny for when Elizabeth was working."

"We're going to need to see those rooms," Jordan said gently.

Emma nodded. "Follow me."

They left the room and walked up the grand stairs to a landing at the top. An endless amount of doors filed off from the main hall. They followed Emma to the end where she stopped outside a door. Jordan noticed as she walked that she was wearing Stiletto heels.

"This is Elizabeth's room," she said, pointing to the one they were right in front of. "And this is Jenna's," she said, pointing to the room directly across the hall.

When Woody and Jordan finished poking around, Jordan asked to look around the rest of the house. Emma again said yes. Woody pushed open a door just three rooms down from Jenna's and was taken aback. He motioned for Jordan to come and look. They both stood against the frame, looking puzzled into the room, then turned their attention to Emma. She motioned for them to go in and followed after them.

"This room looks like it belongs to a little boy," Woody said.

"It did," Emma replied.

"Did? Past tense?" Jordan asked.

Emma nodded again. "My brother Hunter. He was killed when he was four, I was five. Three months after that my mother died."

"How did they die?" Jordan asked, receiving a death glare from Woody.

"My dad put this really awful criminal behind bars when I was two who swore to get revenge. He was baled out and came after us; shot my brother in this exact room, right there in that bed," she said, her emotions hiding behind a wall. "My brother was always the favourite and my mother was heartbroken when he died. So she hired a hitman to kill her. You see, if it's suicide then you don't get the life insurance so she made it look like murder. She was killed in her room, just down the hall. Shot in her bed just like my brother."

Woody and Jordan were wide eyed. "No wonder you're dad wanted to move." Woody said. "What was he anyways? A lawyer?"

Emma looked up from her hands. "No. He was a cop."


	4. Justice Served

Sorry about the wait guys. One of my other stories has been doin really well and I've been postin a lot in that one. Enough excuses ... here's the next chapter!

XXXXXXXXXX 

Jordan stood in the room, admiring the Pairs mural painted on the wall, looking around in amusment. It had been a long time since she was in a fifteen year olds room. Emma stood behind her, watching as Jordan and Woody poked around her room.

Jordan picked up a photo from her vanity and stared at it.

"Adorable wasn't he?" Emma asked from behind Jordan.

"Hunter?" Jordan asked. Woody walked over to them and they stared at the picture.

"Ya. That was taken when he was two," she said.

The little boy was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, standing in front of a large beach tree. He had short blonde hair and dark brown eyes. Both Woody and Jordan noted the resemblance between him and Emma.

"I'm really sorry for your loss," Woody said.

"It's ok. I've moved on," Emma asnwered simply.

Jordan picked up another picture, this one was recent. It showed Emma and a guy around her age, both in bathing suits at the beach. Jordan noticed that Emma's white bathing suit stood out amazingly against her tanned skin, her blonde hair even blonder from the sun. Her arms were looped loosely around the waist of the tanned guy next to her. He had very Italian features and ear length, wavy brown hair, his head resting gently on hers.

"Who's this?" Jordan turned and asked Emma who was still behind her.

"Reese. My boyfriend. That was taken this summer in LA when I went to visit my dad."

"Reese lives in LA or Boston?" Woody asked.

"Boston. But he came to LA with me."

Woody and Jordan nodded their heads in understanding.

"What ever happened to the guy who killed your brother?" Jordan asked.

"Thomas Avery? He was extridited to Texas for commiting three brutal murders there and was put to death last year. Both my father and I were there when it happened," Emma replied.

"You watched him die?" Woody asked in awe.

"My father made me. He said it would be justice served," Emma answered. Woody and Jordan could both hear the undertone of bitter resentment her voice held.

Downstairs the doorbell rang. Emma looked up into Woody and Jordan's face before looking out the hall.

"I'll be right back," she said as she left her room and walked down the grand stairs to the front door. Woody and Jordan followed, stopping halfway down the stairs to see who Emma's visitor was.

She swung open the ten foot high door and her jaw dropped. Standing on the front porch was a tall men with a menacin stature. He stood at over six feet, glaring down to the teen below him. His had a big build, muscualar arms and physique of a body builder. Emma just stared at him in awe.

When she finally found her tongue, one word was all she said. "Dad?"


	5. Day At the Dock

They sat at the edge of the dock, feet hung precariously into the ocean below. The bottle of vodka lay clutched between her slim thighs, arefully protected from the murky waters of the Atlantic. He reached across her lap and removed the bottle, screwing off the cap and raising it to his lips, allowing the vile liquid to sear as it went down his throat. The familiar feeling of warmth washed over him as the alcohol took effect, his fingers and toes tingling with sensation.

She took the bottle back and poured a sizable amount in her mouth, not bothering to let it touch her tongue. She liked the comfort it gave her, if only it had a better taste and no hang-overs.

She twisted the top back on and placed it in between her knees, kicking her feet and watching as the ripples spread out into the muddy water where their eyes ould no longer reach. He as well watched them. In a sudden movement she stood up, removing her feet and staring wide-eyed into the icy water.

"Emma?" Reese asked, removing his own feet and jumping up beside her. She ontinued to stare in awe at the ocean. Gently, he reached over and removed the bottle from her hand, placaing it on the dock and inserting his own hand where the bottle had been. Giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze, her icy blue eyes came up and met his, staring him down with an emotion he couldn't decipher. Her eyes were so cold, so distant, so uncharacteristiclly hard, he felt afraid since the first time since meeting her two years before. She continued to stare at him in silence, searching deep into the dark wells of brown that were his eyes. Finally, her gaze adverted to the wood of the dock and she dropped his hand, her arms crossing protectivly across her chest.

Emma took a step away from him, her arms still crossed and her eyes staring into the deep, seemingly endless ocean. Reese closed the gap she had made and reached out his hand, placing it gingerly on the back of her neck. When she didn't pull away, he moved closer still and pulled her into the warmth of his chest, resting her head on his shoulder and allowing his arms to slip around her waist, holding her close and resting his head on top of hers. He could smell the scent of her shampoo, lilac, as he breathed in, inhaling the scent he loved more than anything.

She fidgited in his arms, turning into a more comfortable position. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, gripping onto his shirt to fight the tears that were threatening to spill over her eyes.

"Em?" Reese coaxed, rubbing his hand in small circles on her back as she gripped onto him tighter.

"Emma?" Reese asked again when she didn't answer. He decided to talk anyways, even though she wasn't responding to what he was saying. "Just beause your dad's back doesn't mean a thing. I know that you hate him more than anything but you have me. And any time you need to get away from him you know where you can go." He knew it sounded cheesy but he didn't care. Right now, the most important thing to him was making sure that Emma felt safe, that she knew that he was going to stand by her through everything.

"I don't even know why he's back," Emma replied, her voice a scared whisper. "I took off before he ould explain. I left the detective and the doctor behind. I just took off. I called you and came here," she whispered into his neck, her eyes closed as she sank deep into thought.

"Em," Reese asked, saying her name comfortingly but not knowing what else to say to her.

She pulled away and wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve, running her fingers through her long blonde hair, sighing deeply and giving Reese what she hoped to be a reassuring smile. Emma took a step towards the edge, her toes hanging off the wood, rocking back and forth. Reese watched in what seemed like slow motion as her balance slipped and she fell forward into the water. In an attempt to brace her fall, Emma lent backwards and as a result smacked her head on the side of the dock, falling and slipping into the depths of the deep blue. Reese screamed as she went under, getting down on his hands and knees and fishing around the water with his hand, waiting with his breath held for her to break the surface.

Panic settled in as the ten second mark she had been under passed and in his fright he jumped in after her, opening his eyes under the water and searching for her.

**20 seconds**

He came up and got a breath, his heart hammering painfully against his chest as he looked frantically around. Reese dove back under, hands and feet flipping furiously under the water to propell himself forward.

**30 seconds**

There was still no sign of her. He dove father down, his ears pressing painfully with the sudden change in depth, eyes scanning the same water he had seconds before.

**40 seconds**

He had stayed down longer than he should have and as a result his lungs were deflating. His head broke the surface and he gulped in the miraciously fresh air, filling his lungs with air and going back under.

**50 seconds**

She had been under almost a minute, the most agaonisingly slow minute Reese had ever exprienced. Still, he searched with no avail. He knew humans could only survive three minutes without air. Time was running out.

**60 seconds**

He finally spotted her, floating in the middle of the water facing down. He swam furiously over to her and grabbed her tiny body, holding it tightly and kicking them to the surface. He turned and looked at her face in the comfort of the fresh air his mind had been screaming for. Her eyes were closed and when he removed his hand from the back of her head, it was covered in watered down blood. Still holding onto her tightly, he swam back to dock and hauled her wet body onto the wood before pulling himself up.

"Emma! Emma come on don't do this to me!" Reese yelled to no one as he leaned over her lifeless body. He plugged her nose and tilted her head back, breathing into her mouth and then moving away, pressing down on her stomach three times. He repeated the process, trying to breathe the life back into her.

Woody and Jordan came running down the sloping hill to the dock, observing the strange scene in front of them. Emma was lying on the wood, her jean skirt dripping with ocean water, blonde hair soping wet, plain black t-shirt clingingly to her tiny body, tanned legs shining with water. Reese was leaning over her, attempting to give her CPR. They finished the remaining distance to the dock, both their faces splayed in shock.

Woody and Jordan knelt down next to them, not yet asking what had happened. Reese pressed on her stomach one last time and Emma's eyes opened in shock. She turned on her side, coughing, and spit the water from her mouth, gasping to get air into her lungs. Woody put his hands under her arms and hauled her into a sitting position, allowing her to lean against him so she could breathe easier.

Reese leaned over her and placed his hand on the side of her face, her features errupting into a thankful smile. Emma pulled away from Woody and threw her arms around Reese's neck, Reese planting kisses all over her cheek. Woody and Jordan looked around, scared expressions plastering their faces.

"What the hell happened here guys?" Woody asked as Reese helped a shivering Emma to her feet.

"She fell in," Reese answered as her wrapped his soaking arms around her shivering body in an attempt to warm her up.

Jordan surveryed the scene, looking from Reese and Emma's shivering bodies huddled together, to the half empty vodka bottle on the floor of the dock. It didn't take a guiness to figure out what happened.


End file.
